Remembering Sunday
by hollysarena
Summary: He walks like a Greek but is glass on the inside. One look from her and he'll shatter. She's the outcast in both of her worlds, but with him, she's feels at home. A dysfunctional and torturous home, but home. - Dramione. Semi-AU.


**based on the song: Remembering Sunday - All Time Low  
i haven't written anything in a while, so i thought this would unleash those author juices inside that were getting outta control. **

**disclaimer: im not j.k. rowling. i think we established that when i signed up for an amateur writing site. **

* * *

He stood at the end of the dimly lit street, his milky-way skin almost glowing in the mist. He hadn't changed much in his looks - standing tall at 6 foot 2 inches, the same half-smile tugging at his lips. Except now, the smile had diminished to ghost of a line as his tired eyes stared desperately through the darkness.

Slowly, his feet padded numbly down the damp concrete, his silver eyes searching for the cursive gate of his destination. He walked like a Greek god, strong and made of stone, but inside he was made of glass. One look from her, and he would shatter.

The gate of wrought iron, twisted and manipulated into a intricate design, neared closer as his heart beat faster. He was searching for his calling, searching for his purpose, searching for his reason to be alive. All arrows pointed to one thing, and one thing alone. _Her_.

His pale hand paused on the gate, it creaking a little under the slight weight. How would she react when he saw him? Would she scream and shout and hit and kick? Would she look at him at all? Or would it play out like in his dreams, where she would run hopelessly in his arms and he could just _hold _her? Doubtful, but he had to see her, even if it killed him.

A faint smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he remembered one particular morning that he'd shared with her. It can't have been more than a week before they walked away, leaving each other to crumble into the earth, but it seemed so perfect. She was perfect.

_She took his hand, pulling him gently up the stairs. His trademark smile laced his face, matching her beam. If anything, his heart flipped continuously just at the sight of it. How could one person be so impossibly beautiful? She didn't look like the girls on the catwalk or in the magazines, but for some reason, she managed to out beat them effortlessly. It was the one thing he would never truly understand._

_Her laugh filled to room as she flopped back onto her bed, pulling him down with her. He propped himself on his elbows, careful not to crush her, and took his free hand to brush a curl from her forehead. Gently, he lowered his lips to plant a tender kiss on her skin, feeling her sigh in content beneath him. _

"_How do you do it?" he murmured, brushing her forehead softly. Her eyes creased, her expression perplexed. _

"_It depends what 'it' you are referring to," she whispered back, her eyes fluttering airily with each of stroke of his touch. "How do I transfigure a rat to a teacup? Well that's easy, you just--"_

_He stopped her by pressing a finger to her lips, a smile on his face. "I know how to transfigure a rat to a teacup. I would like to know how you manage to manipulate me like this… I'm finding it very hard to control myself at this moment in time." _

_She laughed again, the sound of it a cliché of music to his ears. "I guess I'm just talented. However, you might just have terrible self-restraint." _

"_I have a great amount of will power, thank you," he countered. "You're just wicked." _

"_Well, I am a witch." _

_He murmured in agreement, as she leant up and pressed her lips to the soft skin of his neck. It was the one of many things that Hermione Granger did well, and for the most part, he wasn't going to complain. Her tongue ran gently along, causing him to shiver. _

_All of a sudden, he felt himself being pushed up and she was gone from beneath him. He made a sound of protest. Why move when he was so comfortable? _

_Her lips were pulled into a smirk, not unlike his own. "I'm just helping you control your urges, baby." _

_His blonde eyebrows pulled together, and his eyes stared at her, his brain calculating. Her own eyes widened, as she backed away slowly. Once again, he smiled mischievously at her before practically pouncing at inhuman speed towards her, trapping her in his embrace. _

_Her shrieks of laughter died as he placed her softly on the bed, her erratic curls spread out behind her like a dark halo. His face fell soft and serious, causing her breath to hitch in her chest. _

"_Hermione…" he began, his words almost choking. Never had his heart pounded so much in his chest, like a crazed dog trying to get out a cage. Her deep eyes gazed up at him, vulnerable and open. It was at that moment that he knew that he had to tell her. _

"_Yes Draco?" He watched lips move, but could barely catch the sound that the drumming of his heartbeat was blocking out of his ears. _

_Softly, he shifted himself to lie beside her, taking one of her smooth hands in his own. "Hermione… I think I may have accidently fallen in love with you." _

_The next thing he felt was her lips on his, her chest pressed into his torso. Oh, and the extreme butterflies in his stomach. He couldn't forget those. _

Ironically, thunder rumbled in the clouds above him as he pushed the gate, the creak making him cringe. The apartment building was small and crooked looking - the perfect place for her to hide. A crumpled picture of her was curled in his hand, her smile peeking out at him through his fingers. He'd been in this situation before, the searching and hoping.

But for some reason, he was convinced this was the right place.

The names scrawled next to the buzzers were almost incomprehensible, except for one cursive handwriting that claimed "Blackstock". A sigh shivered through him - it was worth a try. His pale finger pressed gently on the buzzer and he waited for the voice on the intercom.

Instead, he was greeted by an older woman, her grey hair frizzing in the tight bun that she'd tied back. She glared at him suspiciously, as if he may be trying to rob her or commit a crime of some sort.

"Excuse me, ma'am…" he said, polite as ever. In all the 19 years of his life, the only thing he'd truly learned from his father was manners. At least, the only think he was grateful for learning. "But have you seen this girl?"

He presented the crumpled picture to her. It wasn't hard to remember the day it was taken - it was the both of them, Hermione and himself, lounging at the Lake on a summer's day. Her face was beaming, the sunlight coming into the picture from behind her head making her seem even more like an angel.

The old woman's face contorted. "No. I've never seen this girl in my life." Her words were sharp, and he could almost detect a slight defensiveness in them.

He edged forward a little. "Please, if you could just look carefully, maybe--"

"Listen, boy! I've never seen her before. Now, leave a poor old dear alone." She turned on her heel, but he quickly placed his hand on her shoulder.

"_Please._ You have no idea how much I need to see her," His sincere, desperate eyes bore into hers. "For the past three months, I haven't done anything but search for her. It's hard to eat, hard to sleep, _damn it! _It's hard to _breathe, _without her. I need her."

The lady's face softened, her eyes flicking back into the building. His eyes followed her gaze, and he could swear he caught the slightest glimpse of brunette curls. Sighing, she turned back to him. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you, son. Now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave…"

His hand dropped to his hand, weighted with disappointment. "I'll wait for her out here. I don't care how long it will take, but I'm going to wait."

"No, no, I don't think that-"

"_You aren't listening to me!" _His screech was unnerving, and even causing a few birds flutter away from the tree beside them. The old lady's face blanched, and she hurried in and shut the door, locking it shut. He leant against it in defeat, his fist pounding against it. "I need her…"

-------

Never in her life had she heard a sound so heart-wrenching. Her brown curls fell around her face as she sat on the stairs, her ears straining just to hear the voice she'd been waiting to hear for so long. The metal of the stair banister rail was cold against her forehead, and she slammed her eyes shut, clinging onto any hope of not crying.

"_I need her…" _They say that you can win a girl's heart with three words. She'd always imagined these words would be: I love you. After all, it was something along those lines that won her over the first time wasn't it? But these words… these words affected her in a way she didn't even know possible. Just hearing them made her want to spring from the stairs, hold him in her arms and forgive him for everything. It would be so easy, so simple.

But life doesn't work like that. The hole in heart still burned, even more so to hear that he'd actually had to nerve to _search _for her. He'd hurt her so terribly badly that day, and there was no way he could ever, ever make it up to her. Or so she thought.

The lovely dear Mrs Blackstock stared at her, fear etched across her wrinkled skin. "Miss Granger…"

"I'm really sorry about that, Mrs Blackstock," she whispered calmly. "Draco Malfoy has always had a tendency to lose his temper. If you want me to call the police--"

"Don't be so ridiculous!" the old woman snapped. "I'm not scared for myself, I'm scared for _him_. I may not have any right to comment here, but never in my seven decades of living have I seen a poor boy so desperately remorseful or so desperately in love."

Hermione's heart twinged. "He doesn't love me. If he'd loved me, he'd never have hurt me so bad in the first place."

The floorboards of the old building creaked as Mrs Blackstock shuffled towards her. "Dear, sometimes our emotions can take over us and make us react in ways none of us could ever expect. Don't be too harsh on him, I can tell he's not used to the idea of love…"

"Yes, he can't possibly understand the idea of love, for he is a monster. Monsters are incapable of loving." Her words were harsh, and she instantly regretted taking it out of Mrs Blackstock.

"But you, my dear, were never incapable of loving a monster?" Hermione's eyes met Mrs Blackstock's challenging ones. "My advice? Talk to him. Don't give in so easily, but at least listen."

The door slammed of Mrs Blackstock's apartment, leaving Hermione in the silence of the hallway. She could hear Draco's pathetic pleas, his sighs and protests. For a few moments, she sat and just listened.

"… _She's not going to come, then. Just… Just tell her that I love her. I just need to tell her that. I'll never stop loving her, but I'm going. If she wants me out of her life… I'll just… I guess I'll go home now." _

There was the distinct sound of him heaving himself up from the doorstep and his footsteps pounding down the porch steps. Hermione froze, and the next thing she found herself doing was yanking the door back.

"Stop," she ordered, her voice breathless. She watched him freeze, and turn towards her, sparking a gasp in her chest. He was as horridly handsome as before, despite the deep grey circles lining his silver eyes. Never more had to she wanted to kiss him. "Draco… why are you here?"

He blinked at her. What a stupid question from such an intelligent girl. "Because I love you?"

"You don't know the meaning of the word, 'love'!" she seethed, ignoring the leap of her heart. Somehow, he'd moved closer to and was almost in touching distance - something she was not entirely comfortable with, but at the same time craved. Screw him.

"Well, how else do I explain what I'm feeling?" he pleaded, his voice hoarse. "Damn it, Hermione. My chest physically hurts at the thought of not being near you. I spent three months of my life doing nothing but searching for you, just so I can tell you that I love you but I'll stay out of your life! You have no idea how much this confuses me. Never in my life have I ever felt so strongly - love is a huge deal for me! I never had loving parents, I never had friends--"

"You had Crabbe and Goyle," she interjected bitterly.

His eyes narrowed. "They were merely cronies. Friends are people who love you, not fear. You of all people should know that. I think that's why I despised you so much in our first years of school - you knew what love was and despite your frizzy hair and buck teeth, you didn't need to threaten people for approval. You just _got _it." His hands had reached out to touch her wrists gently, making her flinch. "And then, somehow, you managed to get it from me too. That wasn't even the most surprising thing though - it was that you actually let me in. _You _gave it back. You made me feel… Damn it, Hermione… you made me feel…"

"You make me feel like I'm at home." Hermione whispered pathetically, tears burning her eyes. "A crazy, dysfunctional and sometimes torturous home, but still. You make me feel like I'm home."

Hope filled his eyes. "So will you ever return… home?"

She shook her head gently. "I don't know if I can. I'm terrified… I'm terrified of letting myself into that situation again. I can't let you hurt me like that, never again. I just… I don't think I can do it."

"But 'Mione--" His grip tightened on her wrists.

"Please don't make it harder for me than it already is!" she pleaded, tugging her wrists away. "You said you came to tell me that you loved me and then you said that you would leave. So go, I don't want you in my life anymore." Even to herself, the words sounded weak and too much like a lie.

Once again, his hands weighted to his side. She half-expected him to protest, but he didn't. "Fine, I'll go." He leant up and kissed her cheek gently. "Remember not to get too much sleep…"

"Why ever not?" she said, affronted. A small smirk graced his lips.

"Because that way, you'll be much too beautiful. I don't think the world can handle that, not yet."

And with that, he turned, his black peacoat standing out in the glare of the street lamp and walked away. It was then that Hermione Granger finally burst into rib-tearing, heart-squeezing sobs.

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The hot water poured down on her as she desperately tried to wash it all away. It had been three agonizing days, and the stains of tears still lined her face. How could he possibly have such an affect on her? It was simply absurd.

She ran her hands painfully through her hair, trying to wash any evidence of Draco Malfoy out of her life. Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy. No amount of near scorching water could wash away the mark he'd imprinted on her heart, on her soul and on her very being. That's why she hated him so much.

Through the nose of the falling water, she heard the buzzer for her apartment. She quickly turned the water off, and wrapped herself in a robe before looking out the window. That was strange? Who else would've let them in?

Tying the robe securely around herself, and slipped her feet into a pair of slippers, she walked down the two flights of stairs to the front door. Still nobody there. Her brows furrowed.

As she spun around, a catch of silver glinted in her view. _What was that? _Levitated in the air, a few centimetres away from her face was the most beautiful white gold ring she'd ever seen in her life. It was simple, a single band that curved around and held a diamond between two ends. A gasp caught in her chest.

She slowly reached out to touch it, only to find that it began floating backwards, and towards the staircase. She frowned, and followed it, her hand still outstretched. Frustration welled in her - was this someone's idea of a sick joke?

The ring stopped floating outside of her apartment door, where she finally got to it. It tapped itself against the door. She blinked. _It wanted her to open the door? _Gently, she turned to doorknob and continued to follow the ring through to her bedroom.

Well, the sight that she got when she was there made her freeze in her tracks. Lounging across her bed, hair dishevelled and looking as gorgeous as ever, was Draco. In his hand, he held a small velvet box open in which the ring settled itself.

"I'm assuming that you're not wearing much under that robe," he drawled teasingly, his voice unbearably sexy to her ears. Her cheeks flushed as she glared at him.

"What are you doing here?" It was hard to hold a glare when he kept smiling at her like that. He beckoned her forward with one finger. "No. Answer me, Malfoy!"

He flinched a little. "Ouch, 'Mione. Are we on last name terms now?"

"Have you come across a sudden case of amnesia?" she said exasperatedly, feeling uncomfortable in just her robe. "Do you not remember our conversation _three _days ago?"

"Well, of course I do…" His voice trailed off, and Hermione couldn't help but stare helplessly at the small box. The ring was exactly what she'd pictured when she imagined being proposed to. But other things weren't fitting. Draco Malfoy? Proposing to _her_? After she'd screamed at him to get out of her life?

"Hermione, you may not think I know you, but I do. Better than yourself sometimes," He smirked a little more, making her heart tumble. "But even I could tell that you don't really want me out of your life. You see, your voice does this weird thing when you lie, and well… it tended to do that quite a bit the other day."

She tried glaring at him again. "What's that in your hand?"

"It's a ring obviously."

"Why?"

"Why what?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you have a ring?"

He barked a laugh - something he hadn't done in a while. "For a smart witch, you aren't half thick."

"Well… you're proposing to someone?" Her words wobbled a bit.

His blonde hair fell over his eyes as he nodded. "Yeah… I love this girl so much. She's beautiful, and amazing, and just… I don't know. Who knew that I'd end up proposing to…"

Frustration welled in her stomach again at his trailing off. "Proposing to who?"

"Pansy Parkinson," replied Draco with a straight face. She stared at him for a moment, before suddenly jumping on the bed beside him.

"You are such a git!" she screeched, hitting him playfully. He grinned before rolling over and pinning her down. "I hate you!"

He laughed again. "No you don't. You love me. I know you do." She shook her head, relishing the feeling of his fallen hair against her face. "So what's your answer?"

"To what question?" she asked innocently, raising an eyebrow.

"You _know _what question."

"Well, technically, you haven't asked me…"

He stifled a groan. "It's been three months, Hermione Granger, and I'm literally an addict in need of a fix. If you do not marry me, I swear I'd dissolve into nothingness!"

"Okay then…" she said with a little sigh. "But only because I don't want to be charged with murder."

With bright eyes and a bright smile. "You mean that you'll become Mrs Malfoy?"

"Only if I don't have to marry your dad," she smiled cheekily. "It's hard enough trying to cope with the idea of marrying you."

His lips pressed against her nose. "Don't worry, I'll make sure our kids don't have your insane hair."

"And let's hope they don't have your lack of social skills."

"Well, at least let them have the true Malfoy smirk."

Hermione grinned, pressing her lips against his. They kissed passionately for a few moments before she pulled away and rested her forehead against his. "I'm sure I can handle that."

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**so that was my first real attempt at dramione in a story.  
tell me what you all think by clicking that green button :) "push me, and then just touch me, til i can get my, satisfaction"  
that's the button talking, not me. *shifts eyes* **


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